Awake
by Walden.Pond313
Summary: Stiles' life in San Francisco has been a dream: perfect house, perfect school, perfect friends. And yet, there has always been this pull towards a little known small town. Perhaps a trip to Beacon Hills will show stiles he has been dreaming...
1. Prologue

**Hi!**

**This is my first Derek/Stiles fic, it is a WIP and will have quite a few chapters.**

**Unfortunately, I don't own Teen Wolf. If i did, Scott would be a much better friend and Derek/Stiles would be canon.**

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><p>Summer was turning out to be a quiet affair in Beacon Hills, California. Fewer tourist seemed to stop by with each passing year and more local families seemed to travel to larger cities. At the Hale house, Maggie Hale enjoyed the cool breeze that passed her way. Everyone had run off for fun summer adventures. <em>'Well, almost everyone.'<em> Maggie thought with a smile as she patted her rounded belly. Baby Hale number four was well on his way. As she turned the page of her Agatha Christie novel, she heard her oldest son came rushing through the woods.

"Mama! Mama, the most wonderfulest thing happened today." Derek cried, flinging himself into his mother's arms.

"Oh, yes?" She wrapped her long arms around his lean body. At seven, Derek was already beginning to lose his cherubic features. In a few years, he would be all angles, just like his father.

He graced her with a wide grin. "Yes! I met my mate. His name is Stiles and I love him."

Maggie's arms slackened slightly. "What?" she asked, incredulous.

"I was at the playground with Laura and Lydia and Danny. Danny and I wanted to play pirates but Laura and Lydia wanted to play on the dumb swings. Anyway, this kid showed up with his dad. Danny said he was a baby but I thought he looked pretty and he smelled pretty too. We made sandcastles and I asked him to marry me. He said he had to ask his dad first."

Maggie felt a stone of dread sink in her stomach. "Why do you think he's your mate?"

"Daddy said our mates would smell like the bestest things on the whole planet. Stiles smelled like chocolate chip cookies, and crinkled leaves, and and Crayola crayons but the 72 pack, not the 24 one."

"That sounds…" frightening, worrying, "wonderful, my darling. What did you say your love's name was?"

"I couldn't pronounce it. Stiliski? Stillis? Gosh, Mama, I don't know. I just called him Stiles."

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><p>"How can this be, Maggie? Derek is much too young to have found his mate." John Hale looked at his wife in anguish. "A bonding this early in life could cripple both of them. What did you say the kid's name was?"<p>

"From what Derek told me, I think it is the Stilinski child." Maggie replied softly.

"The Sheriff's son? Christ."

"Would it really be so bad?'" She asked. "They are young, yes. But they can be taught-taught to control this."

John shook his head. "The emotions are too intense. The would burn each other out."

"What do we do?"

"Tell no one. We cannot tell anyone, not even the family, about Derek's mate. And we have to get the Stilinskis out of Beacon Hills."

"That could be arranged." Shame rushed through her as the next words left her lips, "The Sheriff's wife died a few months back. Perhaps it could be suggested that the best thing for him and the child is to leave. Start afresh."

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><p>Derek watched sadly as the love of his life was strapped into his car seat. "Mama."<p>

Derek's voice was watery and it broke Maggie's heart. "Yes, love?"

"I'll never be happy again." Derek miserably kicked a stone and watched it skip across the street.

"Why don't we go say bye real quick?" She grabbed her son's hand and walked over to the powder blue jeep.

The Sheriff's head shot up at the sound of approaching footsteps. The sight that found his shocked his slightly. Maggie Hale, the pregnant matriarch of the reclusive Hale family. At her side was a dark, solemn yet familiar child. Had the situation been different, the Sheriff might've laughed at the unlikeliness. The Hale family was nice enough, but they weren't known to voluntarily socialize with anyone. "How can I help you folks?"

"Hi there. Derek just wanted to say goodbye to his little friend. " At those words, Derek set of towards the passenger side of the Jeep. He stood on tip-toes to reach the window.

"Hi Stiles." Derek whispered reverently

The four year old popped his thumb out of his mouth. He stared at the boy with wild black hair and sad hazel eyes and remembered his big friend from the park. "Hi Derek."

"I know we're only little and you're a lot littler than me, but I really love you. So when you come back, we can get married."

"But what if I don't come back? What if I go away forever and ever? Like mommy?"

"That won't happen. It's not essposed to anyway. When we're both big, you can come back. Then we can get married at the movies."

"Or the park? By the sandbox?"

Derek leaned up a little more to smack a kiss on Stiles cheek. "We can get married wherever you want, as long as you come back."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it!<strong>

**Feel free to leave a review :]**


	2. Chapter 1

_**14 years later...**_

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><p>"Are you telling me that after maintaining a 5.0 GPA throughout high school, scoring a 2370 on his SATs and a 35 on his ACTs, Stiles wants to squander his potential at some Podunk little college?"<p>

"I'll have you know, Senator, that UC Beacon Hills is a great school. Perhaps it doesn't hold the same pretention as other schools, but Stiles will do well for himself there." Sheriff Stilinski sighed. "And you've forgotten that it's also my alma mater."

The Senator looked sheepishly at his old friend. "I meant no offense. I just care about the boy. I've known him since he was a wee thing, barely up to my knees. He used to ask his 'Uncle Charlie' for piggy back rides or more ice cream. Now, all he wants is advice for college interviews."

The Sheriff understood completely. No matter how old he got, Stiles would always be his kid. He would always be this hyperactive tornado of warmth. What was he supposed to do now that his little boy was growing up?

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><p>"Dad, do you remember where I put my lacrosse gear?" Stiles called out, his voice echoing in the near empty house. "I can't find it anywhere and I'm supposed to be on the road in twenty minutes." Stiles ran down the stairs and out the door. Maybe he put the box in the garage. "Dad!" He called out again after a cursory glance of the garage. "Seriously, I can't find-" A large hand on his shoulder caused him to start.<p>

"You couldn't possibly be talking about the box you told me absolutely _had_ to be loaded first." The Sheriff chuckled, ignoring his son indignant look.

"Oh," Stiles sighed, mentally kicking himself for spending a half an hour searching for a box he'd already put in his jeep. "I could've been on the road ages ago. Or we could've gone out to eat."

"We already had a farewell dinner last night." The Sheriff reminded his son. "And a farewell breakfast this morning, at your insistence."

Stiles shook his head. "It's almost as if you _want_ me to leave." He complained.

"How can I miss you if you don't leave." After a quick laughed, the Sheriff sobered. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a plainly wrapped rectangle. "It's been a while since you've been to Beacon Hills." He watched Stiles carefully take the gift. "I thought this might help you remember."

"Remember what? I was a baby." He unwrapped the paper to find a leather bound book. Upon opening the cover he saw a picture that took his breath away. In it, was a women smiling. She seemed to be her mid-twenties and had rich, chocolate colored hair falling in waves down her back. Her golden eyes were staring lovingly down at the bundle in her arms.

"Is this Mom?" Stiles asked, awestruck.

"Yeah. This was four months after you were born."

Stiles ran his hand over the picture. "She looked like a gypsy." He blinked back the sting in his eyes. "She looked like magic."

This time when the Sheriff placed a hand on Stiles shoulder, his son leaned into it. "She was. She was the most amazing person I've ever known, and you're just like her."

Stiles rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Thanks dad."

"Son, I'm not really sure why you chose to go to UC Beacon Hills. Maybe you want to be closer to your mother or your childhood. I don't know." The Sheriff admitted. "Whatever you're searching for, I'm sure you'll find it."

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><p><strong>Sorry, short chapter.<strong>

**Next Stop: Beacon Hills!**

**Also, senator of CA is not real. just chose a random name lol.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! :] (And i mean that in a non gender specific way)**

**Sorry for the longish wait. Full time student, so my time is a little stretched.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>Stiles pulled up to a white house he'd only seen in pictures: The McCall residence. A nervousness swept through him. Not at see the McCalls- they were like family to him. Even after they moved to 'Frisco, the McCalls still came around for all the important stuff: birthdays, holidays, graduations, etc. Despite the distance and the changing years, Scott and Stiles had somehow managed to remain best friends. But this meeting would be different. This would be the first time Stiles met Scott on his own turf in fourteen years.<p>

"Hey, Stilinski!" A familiar voice called from inside the house. "You gonna sit in that jeep all day?"

A grin split Stiles' face as he jumped out of the van. He saw Scott come out the door and down the porch. For a minute there, he was sure they were running in honest-to-god slow motion.

"Why the hell would I want to stay here?" Stiles asked, wrapping an arm around his friend. "The last time I was at this house, you put mud in my hair."

Scott looked at him skeptically. "How do you even remember that? And it's not my fault you had weird-ass hair when you were little."

"Did not!"

"Did too! You looked like a peacock."

They stood in amicable silence for a little while. Stiles used that time to look over his old friend. He looked older; less like a puppy. His hair was shorter and his skin a little darker after the summer. But he still looked like Scott. The same kid who wire Velcro shoes until he was seven; the first person Stiles ever talked about his mom with; his bro.

Stiles was shaken out of his reverie by a pat on the back.

"You okay dude?"

"Yeah, sure. " They walked in the house and up to Scott's room. A few duffle bags littered the floor. Stiles dutifully helped carry them out.

"Dude, what are in those totes?"

Stiles looked on the back and immediately spotted the two boxes. "Those are my books."

"Your books? You nerd. What is it, like, the complete Nora Roberts collection?"

"Har har." Stiles threw one of Scott's bags in the back of the jeep. "No, you philistine. I had to bring all my books with me. My house is four hours away. I can't just drive over and pick up what I need."

Scott loaded the last of his bags in the car before climbing in himself. "What are the books about?"

"A little bit of everything." Stiles said while pulling out onto the road. He didn't really know his way around Beacon Hills. His need to consult the traitorous GPS was tiresome.

"Cool." Not willing to let the conversation lag, Scott asked "Are you still planning to major in criminal justice?"

"I think so. I mean, I've always wanted to help people, like my dad does. But I'm not sure if I'm cut out to be an officer of the law. Maybe I'll be a lawyer or something. What about you? Are you still going to go into veterinary medicine?"

Scott had been the local vet's assistant since he was 14. The kid loved animals. He used to build little snail reserve all over town so they wouldn't be crushed.

"Yeah, totally. It's all I've ever wanted to do. "

"Do you think the dorms are separated by majors?"

Scott gave him a look. Stiles hated that look. It was a look that said "how do you exist right now?" Scott's face would scrunch up like he smelled something awful.

"No…" He said slowly. "You go online and a pick a room: single or double. If you choose double, you can request a roommate. Why are you making that face? Stiles! Did you do any of this?"

Stiles could feel panic rising. "Oh god. I don't k now. What if I get put with some random person? What if I'm all by myself in some dark creepy corner? " Oh god. Is this what dying felt like? Tight chest pains? Squeezed lungs? Nope…nope. That's a panic attack.

Stiles let out a rush of air. "And I'm back."

"You can do this buddy.

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><p>His room is not, in fact, in some dark creepy corner. Nope. Complete overreaction. He does, however, have a roommate dragged from the very bowels of hell.<p>

"My name's Jackson Whitmore. Don't tell me your name- I don't care. I have only three rule that you need to follow: Rule 1- stay out of my stuff. Rule 2- don't even think about coming in here if there is a sock on the door. And rule 3- we are not friends. We will never be friends. The sooner you accept this, the better your life will be. Are we clear?"

The question was rhetorical. Had to be. Why else would someone ask it and then leave without so much as a glance back. Bastard.

His phone beeped, alerting him of a text message.

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><p>Whod you end up with<p>

-Scott

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><p>Jackson Whitmore. And would it kill you to use punctuation?<p>

-Stiles

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><p>WE. Whos ur 1st class 2moro?

-Scott

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><p>Prof. Peter Hale for Anthro 101<p>

-Stiles

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><p>Dude, that sucks! I heard the guy is scary into rituals. If he offers extra credit, say no!<p>

-Scott

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><p>Stiles closed his phone with a sigh. This whole college thing better not suck.<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey people. Sorry for the long wait, i've been super busy (Midterms, traveling, etc.)**

**In a previous chapter, Derek's father's name was Chris. I've corrected that-it's now John. sorry for the confusion.**

**Enjoy :]**

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><p>"Hey, lame ass, it's time to wake up."<p>

Stiles felt the wrath of God descend upon his dreams. Or maybe it was just his jerk of a roommate slapping him in the face.

Excellent. Excellent way to wake up on the first day of school.

Stiles looked at his alarm clock. 9:30! "It's 9:30 already? What the hell?"

"Oh yeah, about that." Jackson responded, slinging a black jacket over his shoulder. "If your stupid alarm wakes me up at 8 am again, I will end you."

"But my first class is at 10. That means I only have a half an hour to get ready!"

"Not my problem." Jackson called as he let the door slam behind him.

Really Excellent.

After rushing through his shower and throwing on the closest articles of clothing, Stiles found himself speed walking around the campus looking for his first class.

"I don't even _know_ where the social sciences building is. That can't be a good sign, right?"

Scott, the helpful person that he was, just shrugged. "Just don't ask me where it is."

"Yeah, because you're such a fount of knowledge." Stiles muttered.

"Hey, I didn't have to wake up two hours early to help you. "

"It's not my fault Anthropology 101 is a morning class! And if you can't help me, d'you think you could point me in the direction of someone who could?"

Scott was thinking really hard about it. Stiles could tell; his thoughts were practically flickering across his forehead. "You got it, bud? I don't want you to strain yourself."

"You always crack jokes about me being dumb, it's not funny, dude."

"You're not dumb, just absent minded."

"What did they tell us in freshman orientation?" Scott bit his lip before clapping his hands together. "Okay, I got it: '_if you can't find your way, just ask your R.A.'"_

"That's really cute, Scott. Except I don't know my R.A." Stiles thought about it for a minute. "Well, that's not true, strictly speaking. I know her name: Lydia Martin. Do you know her? Or where I could find her?"

With his right arm, Scott smacked him on the chest to stop his babbling. With his left, he pointed across the quad at a small group of students. "That's her with the long red hair and blue coat."

Oh my goddess. "I'm in love." Stiles sighed.

"If you start quoting Shakespeare, I will burn all of your clothes." Scott warned. "Anyway, you're better off wandering around. She's with the Hales. They're like ϋber protective over her. It's actually kind of creepy."

"Like creepy incest threesome creepy?"

"Eww! No, dude! What the hell is going on inside your head?" Scott had to physically shake the image out of his head. "It's more like: Stay away, my shiny thing."

"So the Hales are…?"

"Well the other girl, you know-the one that's not Lydia, is Laura Hale. She may look petite, but the girl is scary."

"What about the guy?"

"Oh, that's Danny. Huh." Scott pouted. "I guess he looks a little like Derek from the back. Danny isn't technically a Hale. You might have a chance with Lydia after all."

Stiles started to walk towards the group, when a hand stopped his progress. He looked back to see Scott's serious face.

"Just be careful, Stiles. Lydia can be kind of scary too."

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><p>Derek parked his Camaro in front of his childhood home. Old Hale Manor looked smaller and smaller every time he saw it. He ran up the creaky front steps, running his fingers up the bannister as he went. He put his hand on the ledge of the front door, finding the spare key at once.<p>

The door unlocked with a quiet _snick._ "Mom. Dad." He called into the foyer. After decades of living in the same house, his parent's scent lingered everywhere. But Derek could hear that their heartbeats were close by. Encouraged by this, he stepped further into the house. He followed the steady _ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump_ beat all the way to the kitchen.

His mother was sitting at the small white table in the middle of the room. Her curling brown hair was pulled back into loose ponytail. Her gaze alternated between her latest read and her husband. The man in question had his back to the kitchen door. But Derek could see his sleeves were rolled up. He smelled brown sugar, vanilla, butter, and flour. Seemed like his dad was making pie.

"Derek," His dad sighed. "If you're planning to just stand there all day, you might as well help me with this pie. You'd look a lot less ridiculous."

Derek plopped his jacket on the back of a chair and headed towards the sink. His mother took one look at his work gray shirt and said, "Derek, I don't understand why you insist on wearing those ratty old shirts. Why won't you wear those shirts your father and I sent you?"

Derek just laughed. Same old same old. "I like my clothes, Ma."

"How do you expect to find yourself a steady girlfriend with clothes like that?"

"Girls like my clothes too." Derek turned off the water and dried his hand a towel. He stood side by side with his father and helped him shape pie crusts.

This is how his Uncle Peter found them. All smiles and jokes with a contented air about them. A slow smile couldn't help forming over his face. Outside of this house, the Hales were known as a serious, reclusive bunch. But here, at the Manor, it'd be hard to find one without a smile.

"Hey there, family. What's cooking?"

"Not Derek's love life." His brother quipped.

Derek elbowed his dad lightly. Looking back at his uncle, he said "We're baking pies for tonight. My parents are also feeling particularly silly."

"I sympathize. I also was surrounded by excessive silliness today."

"Really?" Maggie asked. "No-nonsense Professor Hale allowed silliness in his classroom? I'm intrigued."

"I really had no choice in the matter." Peter sighed, sliding into the seat next to her. "The kid was a whirlwind. It didn't help that it was my 10 am 101 class."

"Go on, tell us more." His sister-in-law urged.

"So this kid comes in 15 minutes late. Whatever, I'll allow it: first day of school, relatively big campus- it happens. Now, most people would just hide in the back of the class. Not this kid, no way. He sits right in the first row, front and center. He then starts pulling out all kinds of unnecessary crap: binder, pencil, pens, laptop, high lighters, etc. You name, he had it."

"How is that a problem?" John asked.

"It's the first day of school!" Peter dropped his head onto the table. "Then he started asking all kinds of questions. Twenty minutes: that's how long it took me to convince him he didn't miss anything in the first 15 minutes of class. Then there was some pencil tapping, loud whispering. Ugh. I can't. And that's not even the worse part."

"What's the worst part?" Derek laughed.

"The kid is actually pretty smart. And weirdly polite. He came up after class and introduced himself. He asked me serious questions about the course and used words I hadn't heard since I took my SATs."

Maggie tried not to be amused by Peter's exasperation. She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "What's this "kid's" name?"

"Something as equally ridiculous as his personality. Now I can't pronounce his first name, so I won't even try. But his last name is Stilinski. He told me to call him Stiles."

The older Hales didn't notice the way Derek's entire body stiffened. Just as he didn't notice the worried glance passed between his parents.

His dad tried to mask any awkwardness by saying "Sounds like you'll have your hands full."

Peter promptly asked for someone, anyone, to shoot him in the foot.

And that night, if Derek dreamed of long forgotten summers and sandboxes, he certainly didn't mention it.

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><p><strong>Feel free to leave a review :]<strong>


	5. Chapter 4

**Sorry for making you wait, thanks for sticking with me.**

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><p>Derek stalks out to the quad, spotting his sister and Lydia sitting languidly at their usual table. Being the atypical kind of guy that he was, he forewent sitting with his friends and promptly plopped beneath a nearby tree.<p>

Unable to ignore Derek's brooding disposition, Laura rolled her eyes at Lydia before sighing, "Please don't tell me you're in a bad mood _again_, Derek. "

Of course he was in a bad mood. Most people are when they spend the night tossing and turning, trying to recall vague memories. But he didn't say that. No, the only acknowledgement he gave to his sister was a scowl in her general direction.

"Oh, please." Lydia sniffed. "You're in a bad mood? You couldn't even begin to understand what I've been through the last forty-eight hours." She tossed back a wave of her red hair. "Unless, of course, you're also being stalked by some loser freshman that is totally in love with you."

"Are you talking about the freshman from the other day?" Laura asked. "He was totally adorable. And he dresses less like a douchebag than that other freshie you're infatuated with. What's his name again? Jefferson? Or something pretentious, like Liam?"

Derek Snorted. "Wow, Liam? Way to pull that one out of your ass, Laura."

"Like you know what it is, jerk."

Lydia called the siblings' attention with her own groan of annoyance. "His name is Jackson, wonder twins. And I know both of you secretly like him. Deny it all you want."

Derek made a gagging motion. Laura couldn't help laughing at his antics before asking "What makes Jackson any better than that other freshman. Aren't they both obsessed with you?"

"Uh, no. Jackson and I are just friends. This other kid practically had hearts in his eyes when he talked to me. Blech." She dropped her head into her palms, letting her fingers massage her temples.

"Hey," Laura asked, "Isn't that him now?"

Lydia's head snapped up. And immediately went back down. "Oh my god. Oh my god. You can' let him see me. If he sees me, I know he'll find some reason to come over here.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Which random freshman are you talking about?"

Laura squinted into the crowd of students. "He's the one with the really close haircut. I mean, it's basically a buzz cut. And he's wearing a plaid shirt over an orange tee."

"Plaid shirt? I loathe plaid shirts. They're the ban of my existence" Lydia lamented. But upon realizing what she said, she turned to here lupine friends. "No offense or anything."

"Whatever. It's better than Jackson's leather jacket. I mean, can you say cliché?" Laura argued. "It's like that boy has one jacket and ten thousand gray tee shirts. He's so bland. He actually worse than Derek."

Derek heard none of this. For him, the world had faded to grey. All the other students were shadowy figures floating through his vision. All other smells dulled until only one tantalizing scent entranced him. All sound dimmed until one heartbeat called to him. One thought filled his mind, yet it was so hazy and unformed that Derek could not fully grasp it.

His skin felt too tight; his mouth too full. His fingernails began to stretch and strengthen.

Laura noticed as his whole body tensed. The smell of the world was flooding out of every pore. She could smell his aggression, lust and confusion. She got up and placed a calming hand on him.

"Derek," she commanded, "snap out of it!" She expected the blue in his eyes when his head snapped up in her direction. What she didn't expect was the red bleeding into the electric blue. Something was wrong.

Derek can't stay here. Something is wrong. His human mind tries to break through the primal fog the wolf brings on. Being around something so distractingly intoxicating is too much for the wolf.

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><p>Stiles watched as guy who'd been hanging out with Lydia ran off campus. Weird.<p>

He turned to his best friend. "Hey, Scott, who's that dude running off like a crazy person?" Scott could be a little clueless, but he had lived in Beacon Hills all his life. There was a good chance he would know.

Scott briefly glanced towards the figure speeding away. "Oh, that's Derek Hale. And he is a crazy person, so stay away him." Scott hoped that would be the end of _that_ conversation. It was bad enough Stiles was infatuated with Lydia. No need to go making more trouble.

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><p>Derek could barely recognize the landscape as he ran. He knew he needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere he could let his wolf out.<p>

As soon as he could see nothing but trees, he knew it was safe to shift.

The human part of him, his fears and worldly desires, seemed to drift away as he let the wolf take hold. It was usually nice. A sense of calm would replace all his human worries. But today wasn't like. The wolf was just as confused as the human. It wants…_something_.

A powerful scent burned his nose. _Alpha_. Another, powerful wolf was coming to challenge him, to take what was his.

Derek the human would never attack his own father; Derek the wolf could only see a threat.

Which was stupid. So very stupid. His father was Alpha. He could put the Beta wolf down easily.

The shock of hitting the ground forced Derek to revert back to human form. It was a little embarrassing that his dad hadn't even needed to fully shift to take him down.

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><p>John Hale held his son down by the throat. He retained his human form, but he knew his eyes were burning red.<p>

"What were you thinking?" He demanded sharply.

A look of shame crossed Derek's face. "I don't know. I just felt…weird."

"If it had been any other wolf, son, you would be dead." He let go of his son's throat, instead grabbing his shoulders in order to lift him up. "I know it's hard, but you can't always just let the wolf take over. You will get into trouble if you can't keep a clear head."

The young Beta hung his head. "I know dad."

"Then don't let this happen again." John sighed.

"I promise I couldn't help it. It's was like the wolf knew something I didn't. I was so confused." Derek brushed dead leaves and dirt off his clothes and out of his hair.

"What are you going to do know?" The Alpha asked.

"I left my Camaro on campus. I definitely won't be able to control myself if some punk vandalizes it. Then I guess I'll head to the apartment. Laura is probably freaking out, which means she cooked something." Derek gave an apologetic smile at his dad. "I'm sorry about this."

John watched his son stalk off towards the road. This was not good. Derek was aggressive and possessive. Which means he came into contact with the Stilinski kid. Remembering the red ringed blue of the Beta wolf's eyes, John wondered if Derek was ready to be with his mate.

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><p>Derek's baby was parked exactly where he left it: in a secluded corner of the parking lot. Nearly two hours had gone by since Derek's freak out. The quad was nearly empty now. Silent except the sound of laughter somewhere close by. Derek looked towards the source of the sound.<p>

It was the freshman from earlier. Lydia's little stalker. He was with Jackson, who looked as unimpressed as ever, and some other freshman. Derek could vaguely remember him from high school. What was his name? Scott? That didn't matter. What mattered was that his arm was around what was _his_!

Derek shook his head and climbed into his car. He needed get out of here.

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><p>"Of course Derek Hale drives that bad ass Camaro." Stiles flailed his arms in exasperation. "Some guys get everything: the looks, the girl and the car. And then there are guys like us."<p>

"Hey!" Scott protested.

Jackson curled his lips. "Don't lump me in with you two. I'm neither a loser," he looked pointedly at Scott. "Nor a spaz." He said, looking at his roommate. "In fact, I'm out of here. Don't talk to me when you get to the room."

"Charming guy, that Jackson." Stiles commented. "He must get all the girls." The two friends laughed all the way back to the dorms.

That night, Stiles didn't say anything to his roommate as he collapsed on his bed. He was so damn tired. He'd hope tonight would just be another dreamless affair.

No such luck. His subconscious lingered on images of a brooding young man. And, weirdly enough, a young boy with floppy black hair and puppy dog eyes.


	6. Chapter 5

Hi people!

Sorry for the long wait. Thanks for hanging in there.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, we have some action going on.

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><p>"So…I think someone is following me."<p>

"Stiles, we've talked about this." Scott reprimanded. "You have a mild case of Attention Deficit, not a severe case of schizophrenia."

Stiles gave his friend a light punch in the shoulder. "Man, I'm serious this time. For, like, the past week, every time I go out, it's like I can see them out of the corner of my eye. And then I turn, but no one's there!" Stiles plopped down on his standard issue twin mattress. A glossy photo of San Francisco mocked him. Things would have been so much easier if he had just stayed home. There wouldn't be any weird stalkers, or hot girls that you're not actually allowed to talk to. Hell, Beacon Hills doesn't even have a pride parade. Where else can he possibly rock go-go boots, a feather boa and a mesh shirt? Unfortunately, his moment of self-pity was interrupted by his roommate.

"Alright, Loser, who do you think is stalking you? Jackson asked lazily from his side of the dorm.

"Derek Hale, obviously." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously going to keep pretending that you don't know my name?"

"Yes, now shut up and let me think."

"Don't hurt yourself, Whitmore." Scott chimed in. Stiles groaned and shoved his pillow over his face. This wasn't a good Idea at all. He knew, Stiles just _knew,_ Scott wouldn't believe him. At least not without empirical proof. Which would be impossible to obtain. How can you prove someone is stalking you if you've never actually seen the person doing it?

"I think I've solved your problem." Stiles rolled over to see Jackson staring at him intently. This ought to be good.

"Oh, yeah? And what exactly is your solution?"

"It's simple, really." Jackson smirked. "Derek Hale isn't stalking you. Derek Hale wouldn't even _look_ at a paranoid twerp like you. Lay off the weed. Or at least find a new supplier, because that shit is obviously driving you crazy."

"That was way harsh, Jackson." Stiles tried not to feel too disheartened by Jackson's disbelief. "You spent all of five minutes deciding exactly which words to use to make me feel stupid." Stiles sat up on his bed, dislodging Scott from his perch on the edge. He began to gather up some of his school work. His mood sunk further when he saw a precious Ticonderoga pencil crushed under his friend's foot.

Scott scrambled out of his friend's path. "Dude, where are you going? You can't leave me here with _him__:"_

"Due to the fact that neither of you wants to be helpful, I've decided to go do something productive. I figured, since the door is clearly visible from every angle of the room, that you could see yourself out." With an exaggerated flourish, Stiles whipped the door open before he bid them good day and stormed out.

Jackson shook his head. "Your friend is beyond melodramatic." He sneered.

Scott nodded his assent. "You gotta love him."

* * *

><p>All day long, Derek felt this unequivocal pull towards <em>something. <em>It was a total out of body experience. He could feel his legs moving, but he couldn't control where.

This was just another tornado on top of the shit storm that had become his life.

His parents had been on edge all week, which had put him and his sister on edge all week. Laura hadn't stop baking since last Friday. She, like Derek, knew what was coming: recruitment. Every few years, their entire pack, extended family included, gathered with Marked recruits. They were both finally old enough to participate. But that's not what worried Laura. No, the real problem was that those bitten didn't always survive the bite.

Laura and Lydia have been dreaming of their lives together as werewolves. Lydia, an only child, yearned for a family. But Laura already felt a familial closeness. She could not imagine a world without Lydia. If her friend didn't survive, neither would Laura.

For that same reason, Derek was hesitant to Mark anyone. He knew, logically, that it was necessary to gain new pack members. His family was scattered. New werewolves were often unsteady but they were added protection for the entire pack. Danny had always been like a brother to him. And he would make an equally loyal werewolf. Unlike Lydia, however, Danny had never shown an eagerness towards lycanthropy. Especially not after the…_incident._

Derek was having _issues _with whole ordeal.

Since his feet were pointed in that direction anyway, Derek decided to head to the Social Sciences building. Maybe Uncle Peter could give him some advice.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Stillinski, I'm not really sure what you're asking me." Professor Hale moved frantically around the room. It was odd. Every time Stiles moved towards him, the professor would find another stack of paper that needed organizing…on the opposite side of the room.<p>

"I'm just…I don't really know if this is for me. You know? My father is a cop and my mother was a therapist. It's like helping people is in my blood. But it just feels like there's so much I could do." There was a yearning in Stiles' voice that he hated. A sort of desperation he had always tried to avoid. "I mean, I scored crazy high on my SATs and ACTs. I speak six languages-"

"Six?"

"Yeah: English, Polish, Spanish, French, German, and Romanian – which is like this weird mixture of Russian and French. I love history. I love science. I was a member of DECA, Drama Club, the lacrosse team, the pep squad, Model U.N., FBLA. And the list goes on and on." Stiles took a moment to catch his breath. When he was in high school, he never told his father his worries. He didn't want to seem ungrateful. Yet, here he was spilling his deepest fears to a man he'd only known a week. "What if I'm never as successful as I was in high school? Everyone has all these big dreams for me, but what if I'm not cut out for anything?" Stiles could feel tears stinging his eyes. Damnit. And to his further embarrassment, Professor Hale was looking at him with pity in his eyes.

"Look son, none of us can know what the future holds. And from what I've seen, you're not one of those kids that peak in high school." Peter Hale reached out a hand, hoping to comfort the young man. This move was quickly aborted by the force of something crashing into him.

"_Mine!"_

* * *

><p>Derek doesn't remember how he got to this point. One moment he was walking through a door and the next… Somebody close is calling his name.<p>

"_Derek!" _The voice is desperate.

Derek's vision clears a little. An expanse of pale skin is bared before him. Instinct wills him to lean in, to bask in the scent of this creature. Hands grip his shoulders, pushing him away yet keeping him close.

"You're Derek Hale, right?"

The world was coming into focus. Derek could feel himself gripping the toned flesh of…someone. Someone who smelled so familiar. He was surprised to find coffee colored eyes staring imploringly at him.

"Are you alright, man?" The kid asked. It was the same freshman he'd seen around campus. The one that gave him serious control issues.

Derek dropped the kid unceremoniously onto the ground. He turned in search of his uncle, finding him a heap on the floor. "Did I do that?" The question slipped past his lips without thought.

"Yeah, dude. It was kind of scary. You were all _whoosh_ out of nowhere. And prof. Hale was like "_Run Stiles, run for your life."_ It was hella weird." Stiles rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "Seriously though, are you all right? Because most people don't go around attacking their family members or random freshman."

"What?" Derek looked at this creature, this... Stiles, incredulously. This is the kid that had been terrorizing and tantalizing in equal measure for the past week. Derek scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed to be anywhere that wasn't here. "I have to," Derek heard is uncle grunt softly. He could smell the blood just under Stiles' skin. Bruises. Shit. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Stiles called out. He looked down at his crumpled heap that was his teacher. Felt the sting left from Derek's grip. This was just not his day. "What the ever loving fuck." He groaned as he bent over to help Professor Hale off the ground.

* * *

><p>That night, Stiles had the king of weird dreams: He was running. He didn't know where to, or why. There was this <em>sensation<em> crawling up his back. It felt warm and tingly. It was telling him to be scared, to keep running. If he stopped, terrible things would happen.

It was dark and Stiles was surrounded by trees. The air was cold, cold enough that he could see his breath as he huffed from one path to the next. There seemed to be and endless supply of fallen branches and dead leaves for him to stumble over.

Something was watching him. Following him. His stomach twisted as he felt a shock of surrealism. Derek had been following him all week. Unlike Derek Hale, this _thing _was a hulking monster with red eyes instead of a handsome twenty-something.

Stiles could see a clearing up ahead. The way was illuminated by a giant, pale orange Moon. As he broke through the trees, the last of his energy died. His legs gave out underneath him. The grass felt cool against his cheek. Maybe now he'd be safe.

"_Genim Stilinski"_

Or not. Stiles looked up to see a truly monstrous face. It had grotesquely large fangs protruding out of a snout. It had a mane of unruly dark brown hair. But what really held Stiles' attention were the eyes. Blood red eyes that seemed to glow brighter and brighter as the monster moved closer. Weirdly it was a sense of calm, not fear, that swept through Stiles as that giant beast stood over him.

"_Genim Stilinski, you have been Marked." _ The great beast pointed a claw at Stiles' left wrist. A symbol began to etch itself into his skin. It felt as if a thousand tiny razor blades were moving seamlessly across his skin. The pain was almost unbearable.

As he curled into the fetal position, a position of perseverance, he got a good look at his Mark: A black, full circle was tattooed onto his skin.

A full Moon.


	7. Chapter 6

"_Genim Stilinski, you have been Marked." _

_As he curled into the fetal position, a position of perseverance, he got a good look at his Mark: A black, full circle was tattooed onto his skin._

_A full Moon._

* * *

><p>Stiles woke up in a pool of sweat. His t-shirt was plastered to his skin. "Oh, man. Gross." The whole room smelled like sickness. It reminded Stiles of the old nursing home he used to volunteer at. The sun was filtered into the room; causing Stiles' eyes to feel like there were slowly being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste. "Kill me." Stiles begged to one in particular. He rolled over. What used to be Jackson Whittemore was now a lump of blankets and pillows.<p>

His phone was flashing on his night stand. 15 missed calls. 9 text messages. Ugh. Delete. They were probably all from Scott. He did not need to hear about his best friend pining over some girl. What he did need however was a shower.

Blessed be the person that invented indoor plumbing, Stiles thought as the hot water poured over him. He felt like a new man. A clean, slightly pink, new man.

What day was it? Thursday. Thursdays meant 10 am English 202. Which sucked because the class was taught by this froggy looking professor that always had this weird smell-

His musings were interrupted by his phone blaring the Doctor Who theme song. The called id displayed a picture of his dad.

"Hello Father." Stiles sang into his cell. "It's only been three weeks. Missing me already?"

"Genim Nicholas Stilinski," Oh shit. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Whaa?" The only other time his dad had sounded this angry, Stiles had totaled the Jeep, which had cost his dad over $2000 in car repairs.

"I got you this phone so that you can be reached at any time. Not so you can forget it for two days."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you since Wednesday night, Stiles. Don't tell me you didn't get any of my calls or text."

"What do you mean by Wednesday night?"

"I talked to Melissa last night and apparently Scott has also been pulling a disappearing act for the past two days. What are you boys up to? Please tell me you're being responsible."

"Just wait a minute, dad." Stiles felt like his head was going to explode. He also suspected the lump in his throat might be his heart. "What are you talking about? It's only Thursday."

"Have you been taking drugs?"

"No, I haven't taking drugs. God, Dad." Stiles plopped on his bed. "The last thing I remember doing is going to bed."

"Yeah, well you've been sleeping for two days. It's Saturday." The sheriff informed his son.

"Holy shit." Stiles felt his heart plunge back into his chest. "Dad, I'm going to have to call you back."

What the ever loving fuck? How could he possibly sleep for two days without noticing?

Stiles glared at his sleeping roommate. Jackson Whittemore, the root of all evil. "Jackson!" He crossed the room and gave the other boy a rough shake. "Wake your ass up, dude."

The covers fell away to reveal Jackson looking worse for wear. His usually tan skin was ghostly pale and covered with sweat. His entire body was tangled painfully in his sheets. He also gave no acknowledgement that he'd heard Stiles. The guy looked pretty damn sick. Whatever kept Stiles asleep for two days seemed to be affecting his roommate too.

"Sonuvabitch."

Maybe, by some happy twist of fate, Scott wasn't also dead to the world. Maybe he'd gone to some frat party and eloped with a sorority girl.

"_Hey, you've reached…Me. Uh, Scott McCall. So just do you r thing and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."_

Oh, geez. Please don't be sick. "Hey, dude. Something weird is going on. I hoping it was that Thai food you bought a while ago. But chances are looking slim. Call me back as soon as you can."

He needed to get out of this room and find someone who knew what the hell was going on.

'_if you can't find your way, just ask your R.A.'_

It was 9 o'clock on a Saturday morning. The campus was practically deserted. The only people milling about at this hour had just been released from Discrete math class…And, of course, not-so-secret genius Lydia Martin was amongst them. Despite this fact, Stiles couldn't find the redheaded junior anywhere.

"Excuse me," Stiles called to the first student that looked the least like a brain eating zombie. "Hey, have you seen Lydia Martin?"

"Nah, man." The beanie cap should have been a dead giveaway that this guy was useless. "Princess has been out for the last few days."

Aw, shit.

The guy laughed at the look of sheer terror on Stiles' face. "It's not the end of the world, dude. She's probably out at the Hale house."

"And where is that?"

"In the middle of a forest."

* * *

><p>The Hale house was a fortress protected and hidden by the surrounding forest. Stiles wasn't raised on the mysteries and horror stories that shrouded the family that lived in it. Not that he was completely oblivious. During Scott's last visit, he'd been filled in on the latest tale of terror: Apparently the two youngest hales had gone missing. The wide spread rumor was that the family had been performing satanic rituals that caused for live sacrifices. Scott, along with half of Beacon Hills High School, assumed the boys had been devoured by the other Hales in order to appease some demon. Of course and further detail had been rather hazy. Their disappearance corresponded with the year Scott found himself a girlfriend. What was her name again? Alice? Alicia? Hmm. Whatever, he'd ask Scott at a later date.<p>

Cannibals and other freaky things probably aren't the best food for thought when combined with acres of eerie trees. After spending most of his life in the city, Stiles wasn't the biggest fan of anything remotely rustic. He liked nature in theory. And he always recycled. But an actual tree? Pass. At least there was a conveniently placed gravel drive way leading through the woods. If Stiles had been made to walk, this whole trip would've been postponed.

But it would've happened eventually. He had way too many questions and according to everyone in town, the infamous Hale family were the lynchpin of all things weird.

As he pulled into the house, the two oldest Hale siblings ware exiting the front door.

"Derek!" Laura yelled, stomping after her brother with dark hair streaming behind her. "You're gonna have to tell me sometime. You can't keep a secret worth a damn." Derek continued his march behind the house without so much as a backwards glance. It gave Laura a queasy feeling in her stomach. She and Derek had always been close. They shared their father's dark hair and their mother's blue-gray eyes. With their similar coloring, similar personalities, and the mere 10 months that separated them (which put them in the same grade) they were thought to be twins. But to Laura, Derek would always be her baby brother and it was her duty to look out for him. Even when he insists on being a stubborn, secretive jackass.

It was with this thought on her mind that she turned back around to go sulk in her old bedroom. Her plans, however, were halted by the sight of a powder blue jeep and its owner.

"Oh god, I didn't even notice you there. Did you see that whole thing?" When she only received a nod in response, she sighed. She could smell the fear oozing off this kid in buckets. "My name is Laura, but I'm guessing you already knew that. You obviously came here for a reason, why don't you come on in? I promise we don't actually eat people." She took in the familiar sight of pale olive skin dotted and adorable brown eyes. As the kid passed her on his way into the house she was also pleased to detect a pleasant mixture of Old Spice, toothpaste (cinnamon), soap, and a scent that was wholly unique to this particular human. "You're the cutie stalking my friend Lydia, right?"

This seemed to spur her guest on. "I'm not stalking her! I only wanted to know where my class was. It's not my fault she happens she thinks I'm a leper. Which I'm not by the way. She's been spreading that one around since I first spoke to her. The entire English department is convinced they'll contract some nasty disease through prolonged eye contact with me. I can't-" The whole diatribe was ended by the sound of Laura's laughter.

"There we are. I've seen you all over campus chewing off the ear of the nearest passerby. I was worried you were sick or something." Noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the flush creeping up his neck, she decided against changing her mind just yet. "You do look a little under the weather."

"That's every guy wants to hear from a pretty girl. I think there's a bug going around. My roommate and my friend are both out for the count."

An uncomfortable prickling sensation began working itself under Laura's skin. She'd have to store that little tidbit for a later date. "My mom made a big stack of pancakes this morning. We have a bunch of leftovers, if you're hungry." She offered. "And even if you're not, there's nothing like a sugar high to chase of a fever."

"I'm not familiar with that remedy. But I can't say I'm not interested."

She led him into the kitchen where he sat at the small wooden table. He placed himself in the chair that left his back to the door. A vulnerable position. Funny, if Derek weren't off having a little tantrum, he'd be sitting right across from their guest.

"What's your name again? Balinski?"

"Uh..It's _Stilinski_. Stiles."

The name was another ping on her radar, but she couldn't place it. "Weird first name." Stiles gave her such a winning smile, she couldn't help running her hand over his short hair before making him a plate.

"It's actually my last name." Stiles corrected. "Although, my actual first name is considered pretty weird. See, my family is this crazy combination of Polish and Romanian. My dad used to say I had pain, hard-work and magic in my blood. Which…probably is a health issue. Anyway, there's this whole crazing naming tradition where a newborn is named after the most recently deceased family member at the time of their birth. So I was named after my grandmother." Acknowledging the look of confusion on Laura's face, Stiles continued. "I know it's like super weird, right? I have five little cousins named Ivan. It's not like we're traditionalists at my house, or anything. All of my grandparents were immigrants, and to this day they barely speak any English. My dad became super Americanized as a teenage rebellion or something. But my mom always used to speak Romanian around the house. My dad says I learned that before I learned English."

"Used to? Why'd she stop?"

"She, uh…she died when I was almost four. We used to live here. Well, not _here_, but in Beacon Hills."

"Wait, you used to live here." Maybe that's why the name was familiar. Stilinski… "Stilinski? You're dad…was the sheriff! I didn't remember that." How could she forget that? Almost three years ago, Sheriff Benson talked about consulting his predecessor with help on their case.

Stiles gave her a comforting pat before finishing the last of his pancakes. "Don't sweat it. That was almost 14 years ago."

"Where did you move?"

"To the beautiful city of San Francisco."

"Did you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it San Fran. Everything about it: The sights, the sounds, the people. My friends back home are some of the greatest people I know. And my dad found this apartment . It was like perfect for us. Not too big; not too small. It had everything we needed. Although, dad just bought this house closer to the police station."

Laura could feel his sadness and smell the unshed tears. "Wow, and you left all that to come here?"

"Well, yeah. My parents met here. I was born here. My god mom and my knucklehead of a best friend live here. Seriously, that kid is like my soul neighbor. Almost like a brother."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Lydia is totally my soul neighbor." Crap, all this talking nearly had Stiles forgetting why he drove out here.

"Speaking of which-"

"Speaking of what?"

The atmosphere I the room seemed to shift. Stiles had heard that voice before. He turned to stare up at an imperious looking woman. The Hale matriarch had shoulder length brown hair and a stilted smile on her face. The laugh lines around her mouth softened her entire face. She was beautiful. But she gave Stiles a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last time he'd heard this women speak, something unpleasant followed.

"Oh, uh, nothing ma'am." Stiles quickly stood from his seat. He couldn't make a hasty exit if he was still sitting. "Thanks for the breakfast, Laura. I'm just…gonna go." He needed to get out of that kitchen, but he knew he couldn't leave the Hale residence just yet.

As soon as the young man left the room, Maggie Hale turned on her daughter. "Laura."

"Mother."

"Who was that?"

"Seriously, mom?" Laura rolled her eyes. "It was just some lost, _completely harmless_ freshman."

Completely harmless. She'd heard that one before. "Ad what did he want?"

Laura's eyes flashed bright blue. "For christ's sake, he's not a hunter! Not everyone has Argent blood running through their veins. And if they did, I would smell them a mile away. And you can't make up for what happened two and a half years ago by being overbearing now."

"You blame me for what happened?" A knife would have hurt less.

"No! Kate Argent is responsible for Adam's death. But you sent Michael away when we need him most. We need to stay together, stay strong, in order to survive."

"All I could think about then was keeping my youngest child safe. I'm sorry, Laura." Maggie refused to cry in front of her daughter. "I'm sorry I don't think like a wolf. I'm only human."

"Then you're the one who should've left!" The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Laura saw the look of absolute heartbreak on her mother's face. And she had put it there. "Mom…mom, I didn't meant it. You have to know I didn't mean it." Laura wrapped her arms around her mother.

Understanding can be bitter sweet. It helps you forgive the faults in others and recognize them in yourself.

So, Maggie Hale embraced her only daughter. "I know baby."

"I just miss them both so much. Adam would've been 18. And now that Michael is 17 they could've both participated in the pack tradition this year."

"I know. But at least we'll have Michael back with us this Harvest. You'll be able to run and play and hunt together again. And with any luck, he'll approve of the person you're I chose for him."

"Mom," Laura said solemnly. "He's a Hale. Hope for the best, expect the worst."

* * *

><p>It's not an easy task to sneak up on a werewolf. Their eyesight could get a little monochromatic at times, but all other senses were enhanced. Especially their smell.<p>

Which is why Derek smelled him before he heard the sharp _crack_ of a twig being crushed. It's also why Derek was on him before he could take another step.

Stiles knew nothing about monochromatic eyesight. What he did know was the he might want to get his checked out. Seriously. On second Derek hale had been splitting logs like some hot, modern lumberjack. The next he was wrestling Stiles to the ground. Well, less like wrestling more like dragging.

"Uh, Derek…?"


End file.
